An Angel?
by ClovrDragn
Summary: With the endless possibilities of Adam, it was only a matter of time before someone decided to splice human and animal DNA together. What happens when one of those experiments falls through a tear? Is there really an angel in Columbia, or is it just a confused young woman?
1. Rude Awakening

**Hello. Here is one of my first posted, though still in the works, fanfics. Before you begin, I must warn you that this story will not have consistent uploads. Also, it is a write as I go story, meaning if you want one flowing piece of material not literally made up as I am typing, then I suggest looking for another fanfiction. If you are still willing to read such a story, enjoy.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Bioshock. Why would I be posting fanfiction if I did anyway?**

I awoke to find myself in a bed, nose pressed deep into the too soft pillows. The scent of lab still haunted me, chemicals, metal, and other odds and ends clogging my nostrils. I stretched, turning over, when a web of pain shot across my back. Bolting upright, I cursed my foolishness. For a second I thought my six month imprisonment had just been one long nightmare, and that I was back at home, in Rapture, after a long night of drinking. I sighed. No. I had only just escaped, through a thing I was not sure even existed.

Stretching I examined the added appendages acquired during my stay with the "good doctor." They were still sore, bandaged, so I could not damage them. I attempted to wiggle them, feeling the cloth shift. It still hurt, but it was much less painful than yesterday. My hope would be that I could remove the bindings by the end of the week.

I turned to the mirror. Other than the bandaged lumps sticking out of my spine, there wasn't much else that had changed. My face was more tired, and my weight much less, but that was no surprise. I had been forced slim-down plasmids since day one of my imprisonment, along with a slew of others. I thought of all of that Adam flowing through my veins, and suddenly my mouth went dry. You don't spend months being pumped with addictive drugs, to just walk away without some kind of needs.

I pulled open the window. Perhaps once my. . . additions healed I could explore the city sky at night. Did they still produce Adam in the clouds? This city was so weird and beautiful. While I could not help but despise my captor's changes to my body, the thought of flying around the city seemed oh so charming. For now, though, I would have to settle for walking, and hiding my deformity from the public.

First thing first, though, I chose to explore the building I was in. When I had escaped, I had merely seen the bed and collapsed on it, barely even bothering to glance out the window, or even acknowledge the metal thing bursting through the floor. It was about time I see what resources I had at my disposal, and what I had to hide my condition. Walking down a flight of stairs, I looked to see a parlour area and yet another lab. I glared at the sight. Would I ever escape from this the pull of the scientist? I walked deeper into the workplace, letting my eyes wander over the large machine before me. That was when the hint of a familiar blue glow caught my eye. I grinned wickedly, snatching the bottle and chugging it as fast as humanly possible. Eve. It was no Adam, but it was as close as I was going to get at this time. Glancing at the empty bottle, it read "Salts." I shrugged. It must have a different name here. I returned to exploring.

It took me a while to find a thing suitable to hiding my growth, but after taking a trip to the toilet, I found a laundry basket large enough to work. Emptying the clothes from it, I cut a hole in the back, before dragging it upstairs to the severely damaged bedroom. I attached leather belts from the wardrobe to it to serve as false straps, and threw a blanket over the top. I smiled at my reflection in the nearby mirror. With this it was near impossible to tell that I had something wrong with me, save for my distinct lack of clothes.

After removing the basket, I pulled open the wardrobe. The attire inside was all so serious, vests, and blazers, skirts, and slacks. It was clear a man and a woman of very similar taste lived here. I quickly slit holes in the back of the lady's top, knowing her clothes would fit me better, but when I examined the skirt, I couldn't help but turn away. Skirts were never my thing, and the man's pants, although baggy, would be sure to have ample pocket space. Throwing on the khaki and green outfit, I again hoisted my disguise over my shoulders and left for the door.

I could already tell I was sticking out like a sore thumb. Of course, that might have something to do with the fact I just exited a building reading "DANGER! Risk of Death or Serious Injury: By order of the Columbian Science Authority." At least I learned where exactly I was. Ignoring the people giving me odd looks, I turned to one of the nearby stands. To my joy and amazement, it had _fresh_ fruit, not the genetically modified into oblivion, canned behemoths called fruit found in Rapture. I drooled. It had been years since I had real fruit. Reaching into my pockets, I thanked whatever being decided to put money in this set of pants.

"Fresh fruit! Sweet and delicious!" The merchant called.

I walked to the stand, pulling a small basket of strawberries from his selection. I could only hope I had enough of whatever currency I found.

"That will be two silver eagles, friend," I fumbled with the coins, making sure I pulled out only the silver ones. Handing them to the man, he said, "You're new here?"

"Yes," I blinked, "How did you know?"

"Lot's of things, but mostly that pair of trousers you're wearing, and the way you walk."

"The way I walk?" I looked down at the ground.

"You don't have your sky legs yet," He smiled, "It's alright. We were all new to Columbia at one point or another!"

"Is there anything I should know about this place?" I smiled, hoping to get as much information out of this man as possible.

"Just that the word of the Prophet is the word of God."

"Prophet?"

"Surely you heard of him? You're not Irish are you, girl?"

"Not that I know of?" Irish? Why did that matter? "So where can I learn more about this Prophet?"

"There's a book store chain called Founder's Books, if you're interested, and a library near the Memorial Gardens." I picked up my fruit, nodding my thanks, before I turned to the nearby map.

I spent most of that day reading about the history of Columbia, and the "great and mighty" Father Comstock. The thought of such a man frightened me, as I had seen what power does to men. Those in Rapture too proud to give it up grew corrupt. There was constant fighting and backstabbing for such power from Rapture's bigwigs. No, I did not trust this Comstock as far as I could throw him.

As for the followers, I could not help but believe these people were as brainwashed as the Saturnine that began to take over Arcadia. Of course, I could never tell them that, but I knew I had to be careful when talking of race, or religion, or the Prophet in front of them. Flipping shut the memoir's of one Zachary Hale Comstock, I trudged my way through the now dark and empty streets of Columbia, back to the "Lutece Labs" as the signs on the window stated. I wondered why these famous scientists left their home. It wouldn't make sense, as all of their equipment was still in there. Climbing the stairs to the door, I frowned at the set of locks obstructing my way. The door must have locked behind me. I gave the door a good kick, only to curse under my breath as I fell onto my butt.

"Odd," I turned to see a man accompanied by his clone? No, the other one was female. Twins? The Lutece Twins!

"That there is a girl knocking at our door?" the woman smiled.

"That an angel is knocking at our door," He clarified, indicating the basket on my back.

"When we are the ones that are supposedly dead," the pair pulled me onto my feet, brushing off my, their, clothes.

"Are you the Luteces?" I turned to them.

"She know's who we are," The male, Robert smiled.

"That means you won this time, brother," Rosalind handed me a key.

"Chin up. There's always next time," Robert patted Rosalind on the shoulder, as if he had said this many times before.

"What are you doing-" I clutched the key placed in my hands.

"Here?" Rosalind sighed.

"Leaving our mark on this world," Robert ushered me toward the door.

"Feel free to use the house as long as you like," Rosalind gestured for her brother to follow. The two returned to the street, at least I thought they did, but as I turned around to thank them, I found the pair gone, vanished into thin air. How strange.


	2. The First Message

A week soon passed, and I found myself masquerading as the Lutece twins' younger sister, Robin. It was a simpler explanation, than saying the twins post-mortem handed me the key to their house and said have at it. If anyone actually bothered to look into this story, unfortunately, they would find nothing on it, but as I had grown a lot healthier these past few days, I knew abandoning the lab was possible, should I need to escape angry relatives or the like.

I was just about to remove my bandages when such an inquisitive soul decided to knock on the door. Throwing a blanket over my shoulders, I bolted down the stairs to answer. Before me stood a man, likely in his late twenties, clean shaven. I immediately did not trust him for his suit was just a tad too perfect, and his smile a tad too wide.

"Hello," The man stook out his hand, I hesitantly shook it, "I'm Archibald Winfried from The Bank of the Prophet. Rumour has it you're the younger sister of the Lutece twins."

"Yes?" I starred the the creases between the man's eyes.

He held out a clipboard, "Anywho, as a Lutece you would be the only heir to their finances."

"Well, that's nice," I mentally groaned. All I wanted to do was close the door in this man's "oh so happy" face. He spelled out trouble, if I ever saw it.

"It would be, Miss, if it weren't for the fact that we can't find a single detail of you on record," the man pulled out a pen, "If you would like we could search deeper into the matter."

"The money isn't that important to me," I started to close the door. I did not want to end up in court for not existing.

"Really? It would be no hassle at all if I could-" it was too late. I had already shut the door, leaving the boy to stand there in confusion. I didn't need money, not when every Tom, Dick, and Harry left their cash on the street here.

Returning to my business, I made sure to lock the door extra tight, and to cover all of the windows. If I were going to remove the bandages, it would not do to be ruined by a common peeping tom. At least they didn't sell that plasmid here. I chuckled inwardly at my own joke, before grabbing a pair of scissors from the lab and running upstairs to the bedroom.

I slowly snipped away the bandages as best I could, attempting to not cut the feathers pressed against my restraints. What I had hoped would take a couple minutes ended up lasting half an hour at the least. The sun had set, and I had to massage my poor arms, all stretched out from trying to reach the feathered growths. Now, though, I could finally see what that scientist had done. I could know if his vast invasion of my rights as a human being were worth it, know if I were a "beauty" as he always said I was.

I turned to the mirror, ready to see bloody and mangled bits of bone and down sticking out of my spine, but the doctor had not been lying. If anything, his additions were aesthetically stunning, although the practicality had yet to be proven. I had white wings, like that of an angel. While the citizens of Columbia would often criticize me being a lady, and keeping short hair, or my preference for boy's trousers, I think even they would be stunned into silence with these. Of course, I would not be making any public displays. No. That could only lead to trouble. It had already been decided that I would spend the rest of my days as a hermit. I left my reflection, knowing it would still be there, should I wish to examine my additions in further detail. That was when, just my luck, I ran into the still living Lutece twins.

"You again?" I smirked. These two were certainly entertaining.

"Us" Rosalind nodded

Robert took over, "Asking should you"

"Stay in," The female Lutece tossed a package in my direction. I caught it.

"Or out?" They gestured to a window.

"In" Rosalind rested against the wall.

"Or out?" Robert opened the window.

"That is my decision to make, you two," I maintained eye contact with Rosalind, hoping that perhaps, if I were to continue to look at them, I would be able to keep them from winking out of existence, as they did last time, "But I think it's my turn to ask a question?"

The Luteces remained silent, perhaps waiting for an escape, for me to blink, or for one of them to leave my sight, either way, I did not back down. Mysteries be damned. The issue came, however, when I realized I didn't have a question to ask! I had hundreds, and picking just one was so difficult, especially when my eyes were going dry.

I just had to pick one, so I blurted out "Can you guys eat?" Really? Out of all of the questions I could ask, I had to pick that one? I let light tears come to my eyes. Stupid!

"We never tried," Rosalind blinked, surprised I asked such a mundane question, I suppose. Maybe they didn't know as much as I thought they did?

Robert chuckled, "Why do you ask?"

"I was curious?" It wasn't a lie, though I did not mention my own social ineptitude, "Would you like to try at some point?"

"Is this an invitation?" Rosalind questioned, obviously the more serious of the two.

"If you would be interested?" What did I just get myself into?

"I would very much enjoy that," Robert smiled. Odd I never did consider these two might have varying opinions. They were just so. . . similar.

"But not today," Rosalind grabbed her brother by the shoulder, "We must not, will not stay here too long."

"We did not stay here too long," Robert sighed, clearly frustrated with what seemed to be some kind of future truth, "But we did spend an hour with the girl on Tuesday evening."

"That remains to be seen," Rosalind nodded, and with the next blink they were gone.

Those two. I liked them, but the power they seemed to hold was scary to say the least. Had I felt comfortable snooping through their books, perhaps I could understand their unique logic, but I was too terrified. Already, I lived with an unknown machine sticking out of the bedroom floor, and furniture that disappeared and reappeared throughout the house. What if I discovered something far worse? What if I found out they were just like the doctor that ruined me? This was something I'd just have to get over, but I certainly didn't want to.

I looked down to the box in hand. This would be the first thing I examined. It's not like it was stealing. They had given me the house, and that implied all of the stuff that went with it. Already, I used their bed, their clothes, this was no different. Taking a calming breath, I pulled at the brown paper, to reveal a Voxophone labelled "From Constance Field."


	3. Special Delivery

**Hello!~ Just a warning, italicized quotes (from the voxophone) are direct quotes from the game. I do not own these quotes, universe, or characters, save for my OC.**

 **Onto other thoughts, thanks for reading. Stay awesome!**

" _Madam Lutece_ _\- I have read all of your books on the sciences. Mama says, "It's not a fit occupation for a lady," but I think she's jealous of our cleverness. Is it true that only you are allowed to visit the girl in the tower? If the Lamb is lonely, too, I should like to meet her, as we would have much in common._

 _\- Warmest regards, Constance"_ The voxophone whirred into silence. This had to be at least the tenth time I heard the recording, and each time filled me with dread. The Luteces wanted me to do something, that much I knew, or they wouldn't have handed me this recording in particular. The only thing I could think of, though, was that I were to deliver the letter to "the Lamb." I shuddered in fear. Although I did not spend a lot of time outside this house, I had been around enough to know what exactly was guarding that girl. The only advantage I had were my wings, and I wasn't even sure they worked.

A gust of wind rustled my bangs from the window Robert left open. Was I really going to do this, jump out a window to deliver a message to a girl guarded by a flying big daddy? It was terrifying to say the least, but if anything the wings were big enough to slow my fall, right? And I was small enough to fit into spaces that thing couldn't hope to reach. Yes. I was going to do this. Call me crazy.

I silently wrapped a gray shawl around my shoulders and clutched the voxophone to my chest, before stepping onto the ledge of the window. Market Square was empty. If I was truly going to go through with this madness, it was best I did it when no one was looking. I pushed myself as far to the edge as I could force myself to go. While I was not afraid of heights, the instinct to not leap to my death was strong. My stomach churned with unease. Dammit, why was I doing this!?

I stretched out my wings as wide as they would go, and began to gently pump them. The wind was blowing stronger now, and I hoped it would just carry me away, instead of forcing me to step off the ledge on my own. No such luck! With one deep, calming breath, I stepped off the edge of my windowsill, and I fell.

Down, down, down. If I didn't do something soon I would soon be a smear on the ground! I stretched out my feathers. This was my only hope now! Faster and faster, and then something caught me, the breeze. No longer was I falling, but I was actually rising, using the air current like an invisible swing!

Higher I climbed, letting me take in the city in all of its splendor. That was when my breeze swing cut out, and for a second I was back to falling until I sensed another breeze slightly above me. I pushed my wings with all of their might, knowing that if I managed to reach it, I would again be carried. I was quickly back to gliding.

I spent most of the night sensing air currents, slowly, though not as slowly as by foot, making it to Monument Island. By the time I got there, my head was spinning. The change in altitude, from sky to island entrance was great, and combined with the stress and exhaustion, I was lucky I didn't just decide to sleep on one of the unkempt benches outside. Instead I trudged, carrying the now heavy voxophone through the gates, thoroughly ignoring every warning I saw.

I won't say I was surprised by the number of strange machines scattered throughout the entrance to this girl's room, or the inappropriate, secret photos developed and hung to dry. No. This was the Luteces' project, and while they seemed better than the madman that tortured me, they were still scientists. Sometimes there was no room for compassion in these projects. I could only hope that now, as they had time to ponder their decisions, they considered the destructiveness of such an experiment.

Continuing on, I pulled myself up staircase after staircase, down hallways filled with rooms all focussed on one thing, her. It took some effort, but finally I made it to her living quarters, complete with one way mirrors and hidden doors that only unlocked when this girl was asleep. I was beginning to think I was going to have to confront the Luteces after this venture. This delivery took precedence though. Turning to the one door, I thanked my luck that I had decided to do this at night. This "lamb" was asleep, which meant I could creep inside to deposit my message.

Her room was clean, not something I would expect from a teenage girl, but as she was trapped in this tower, it was not too surprising. She would likely notice this message as soon as she woke up, but it was best to place the object in plain sight. I looked around the room deciding to place the voxophone beside a well loved flute. Surely she would see the message from there.

I was just about to leave when my curiosity got the best of me. This girl, I just had to see her in person, and the only way to do that would be to move the blankets covering her in bed. Sneaking as well as a woman with giant wings can in a confined space, I went to examine the sleeping figure. Unfortunately, I still was not the most skilled at not being a complete clutz, meaning that as I turned to the girl, I knocked everything on the desk to the floor!

"Madame Lutece _\- I have rea-"_ The voxophone was playing! Surely I woke the resting prisoner. I looked to my entrance, now quickly closing.

"What?" the figure in bed was rising. If I didn't leave now, I would also be trapped in this tower! Making a dash for it, I went as quick as my legs could carry me through the door. I only lost a few feathers, but that was a close one.


	4. The Most Important Question

The next couple days consisted of exploring the city on foot by day, and wing by night. It was amazing how a place so beautiful and clean on the outside could contain such fools, bound by their own racism. I wondered what would happen should Columbia meet Rapture. The ideals were both so different, and yet they were both wrong. I was glad I did not have to worry about a future war between the two, especially since Rapture was not created until 1946, and it was only 1909.

"Miss?" a boardwalk vendor stopped me, "your nose is bleeding," He handed me a tissue.

"Thank you," I dabbed at my upper lip. The altitude had been giving me troubles since I got here, and I had come to accept nosebleeds as a new aspect of my life. All I could do is clean up the mess and carry on.

"So are you looking for anything in particular here?" The man smiled.

"Not really?" I shrugged and began to walk off, "Thanks for the tissue, though!"

The people here were so kind to me, it was horrible how quickly that kindness changed to cruelty to those that did not fit the racial majority. I shook my head. I came here to think of ideas for dinner for my curious friends, not ponder the societal failings of a floating city. I was not sure what it was about the Luteces that made me want to be around them. They always left me confused but, then again, I always did like puzzles. No. There was more to it than that. I'd figure it out eventually.

Meandering my way down and around the boardwalk and onto Battleship Bay, I grew more and more frustrated by the lack of ideas coming to mind. I thought this place, with it's light waves splashing in the distance, would leave me relaxed enough to think of something, but nothing came. Instead my mind just wandered. Perhaps it was best if I sat down and focussed on what I could easily make.

Plopping unceremoniously into the sand, my basket slid up. Sitting with my disguise was always awkward, but now was not the time to complain. I was not leaving until I had an idea. What kind of food did the Luteces eat? I could not be certain, as they weren't around enough to ask, and their kitchen, as I was mortified to find out, was taken over by the lab, much like the bedroom. I'd just have to go with my gut here.

Immediately I knew that the classic red, white, and blue style food would not do. I had already grown sick of the stereotypically American food. Of course, a lot of ingredients I'd need for a foreign meal would not be available. I'd have to use very common ingredients if I were to do this. The first simple meal I thought of was pasta. It didn't have any special meats or spices. It was nice enough to be served alone, and it wasn't so foreign that it'd frighten my guests. It'd have to do.

I spent the rest of that evening gathering supplies for the meal, wine, eggs, flour, salt, oil. That wasn't even counting the sauce ingredients, or dessert. By the time I got back my arms were fully loaded, as was the remaining space in my basket. Now, though, came the hardest part; I had to turn the kitchen into a _functioning_ kitchen.


	5. Nightmares, Dinners, and Dancing

I spent the remainder of my time going through the Lutece's supplies. The food was nearly complete, as all that was left was to boil the noodles and throw dessert into the oven. With this in mind, I thought it best to acquaint myself with some of the music the two had. The worst thing was a silent dinner, and as the twins seemed ever so secretive, I thought it best to play some music during the meal.

For a pair of scientists, they had a rather large collection of records. They had "Girls Just Want To Have Fun," to "God Only Knows." The stack was huge, so I began to flip through the pile pretty fast. That was when I stumbled upon something all too familiar, a Rapture Record! How did these two get this? I wasn't even sure how I got here, so how could they get something from there in their home? My head spun for a second, and I had to force myself to sit down. These people, whoever they were, knew how I ended up here. Half of me wanted to investigate, but the other half wanted to crush any thought of life in Rapture into oblivion. Too many bad memories.

Gently resting by the fireplace, I sighed. I had so many questions, but there was no way of knowing when these two would show up. It seemed like things worked different for them, and I found myself considering the vastness of time itself. It just went on and on. Did the Luteces view time as linear? Somehow I doubted it. For me, however, I was stuck on this path, and waiting for the two to show up was a pain in my butt!

I shifted in my seat. Speaking of pains in my butt, I was sitting on something hard. I quickly went to grab whatever I was sitting on. My hand reached cool metal. Surprised at the material, I quickly stood up to see something else that should not have been there. It was my harmonica! I snatched the item from the chair, rubbing my thumb over the metal, the name "Jane" etched on one side. That was my name, wasn't it? Before I went by Robin here, or was maliciously called Beauty, that was my name. Dear God, how could I forget that?

Pushing away my shock, I brought the metal to my lips and blew. A clear note rang out, and for that moment I was back at the Kashmir Restaurant. Smoke clouds covered the ceiling, and the sounds of forks and knives clattering against plates filled the room. I was at the bar, smiling at the happy faces around me. Tomorrow was New Year's Eve, but that didn't mean we couldn't have a good time now. I pulled out a chair and began to play my harmonica. It echoed throughout the restaurant.

"There she goes again," Charlie, the barkeeper grinned, "Always the show off."

Brenda, his girlfriend and boss, walked by, "Pah! You know you like it!"

I continued playing. The music helped me clear my mind, and if I were lucky it would attract a good looking lady or gent willing to pass the time with me. The bar-goers seemed pleased by the lively music too. Overall, the night looked like a good one. That was when a man walked into the room, decked to the nines, I swore I nearly missed a note. Slicked back black hair, bright green eyes, he was gorgeous, and then he walked up to me, smiling.

"Hello, Beauty." I stopped playing, and the restaurant grew dead silent. I was suddenly strapped to the chair, the charming gentleman, now dressed in a lab coat and surgical mask. Everyone else was gone, the room now cold and dark. I struggled to escape, but the restraints were too strong.

"No!" I yelled. The doctor drew nearer, a syringe in hand, "NO!" He gently cupped my chin, brushing his gloved thumb over my cheek. He rubbed his hands over my face as tears fell from my eyes. He continued patting me and caressing my jaw, all with the needle still in hand. Suddenly however he shoved his thumb up my nose!

Snorting, my eyes snapped open and I was brought back to reality. There was no charming man, waiting to abduct me. I was not being experimented on. No. Instead I was laying on the couch, a couple pieces of gauze filling my nostrils. I pushed myself up, my head spinning, but I managed to see the Lutece twins setting the table.

"Ah. You're awake," Rosalind placed the last plate on the table.

"We knew you would," Robert set down the finished meal.

"What happened?" I asked, stumbling my way to the two remained silent. I plopped into a chair and began kneading my forehead, "I made most of this meal, the least you could do is tell me why I passed out."

"You had a nosebleed," Robert stated as the twins sat down.

"Nosebleeds don't make people lose consciousness," I retorted.

"It's best not to think on it," Rosalind quipped, serving her brother a heap of pasta.

"Doing so is hazardous to one's health," Robert did the same for Rosalind.

"Lovely," I grabbed my own plate of food, "I have so many questions my head hurts."

"And that, my dear, is what will give you another nosebleed," Rosalind twirled her pasta.

"Best to stay in the present," Robert smiled, "I'd know."

"Can I ask how you two died at least?" I kneaded my brow again.

"We didn't," Rosalind replied.

"So much as our essence is scattered throughout the multiverse," The meal continued for a short period the details of the multiverse growing ever more complicated, before Robert walked over to the nearby phonograph, placing a record in its place. A waltz came on.

"I have a feeling this is going to go over my head soon," I finished my meal.

"Likely so," Rosalind stood from her seat, "Care for a waltz, brother?"

The pair began to dance across the room, miraculously avoiding every wire scattered across the floor. I followed behind, questions still dashing around in my head.

"Why did you send me to deliver that voxophone?" I called, now squeezing around lab equipment.

"All will be revealed in time!" Robert called over the music.

"Fat load of help you two are!" I stomped, but Robert had decided to part with Rosalind to spin me. I twirled barely staying on my feet, "Well, why are you helping me? Tell me that!"

Rosalind pulled me into a waltz, "You're just special."

"Bull," I managed to push away, "You just don't want to tell me."

"Perhaps," Robert replied. The music ended.

"But can you blame us?" Rosalind pulled out a pocket watch, "I believe our time is running short."

"At least let me give you dessert for on the run," I walked toward the kitchen, sighing at how difficult those two were.

"If you insist," Robert stood beside his sister.

Using a rag, I quickly pulled the dessert out of the oven, pumpkin dumplings. I wrapped a batch in a cloth and returned to the lab turned dining area. Robert was now holding another voxophone. Already I could feel my wings ache from the future flight.

"This one, is for the tower," Robert passed the device to me in return for the dumplings.

"Though we recommend you remember the address 1681," Rosalind stopped, only to be immediately finished by Robert.

"West Finkmore Street."

"Thank you for the meal," Rosalind looked down at her pocket watch.

"It was delicious," Robert smiled again. It seemed odd how similar yet different the two acted. Robert was clearly the more cheerful of the two, wanting to make change and playing music. My thoughts were interrupted by a slight cough. I had been staring at them, which meant they couldn't leave. Snapping out of my thoughts I turned around. I did not have to look back, as I knew they had gone for the time being.


	6. Squeamish

**Again,** **italicized quotes come directly from Bioshock Infinite. I own neither Bioshock Infinite, their words, or their characters. Have fun.**

" _This is for the Miracle Child. Hello! I'm sorry your mother, Lady Comstock, is dead. (I think she is altogether better than mine.) Since you live there, can you tell me why the tower has been closed? People say it's poor weather, then the pox, then a haunting. If it is a secret, I promise not to tell a soul._

 _\- Your pen friend, Constance"_ The voxophone clacked unnaturally before whirring into silence. I sighed. Another visit to the tower was in order. The place still worried me, it being closed and guarded by this "Songbird" character. Nobody else was going to deliver these messages, though, so it was best to just get it over with. Sticking the voxophone into my sling bag, I rushed to change into my new flying clothes, all black blouse and slacks with the grey cloak I found before in the closet.

Finally dressed and ready, I launched myself out the window, my fear of falling almost completely gone at this point. I glided over the city. Those few lights on sparkled beneath me, as shop after shop, statue after statue passed below. I had to admit that once one got used to it, the act of flying was rather soothing. Making sure I was on the right track, I let my mind wander, focussing on the voxophone weighing me down.

Why did the Luteces continue to bother with this girl? I already knew there was something, different about her. There had to be with all of the effort made to keep her in the tower, but letters from a little girl seemed so unscientific. Perhaps this was their way of restoring order? Or perhaps this was a way for the twins to apologize to her? I did not know.

What I did know was that I had to climb a fair few stairs soon. Landing soundly at the base of the tower, I wasted no time getting through the doors and up the first flight of stairs, trying not to notice all the equipment surrounding the girl. My job was to get in, drop off this message, and get out without trashing the place like I did last time. I shifted my wings. The feathers had already grown back, thankfully.

Once I had reached the viewing rooms, I pulled the lever that allowed me to see her bedroom. Hopefully the girl was asleep at this time. The mechanical blinds slid up and I was left with a clear view of of her room. The girl in question, dressed in a white nightgown, sat at her bed, a voxophone was on her lap as she spoke into some sort of microphone. She must have been recording her own message. Struck with a sudden realization, I resisted gritting my teeth. The Luteces knew this would happen! I would show up, and be expected to deliver a reply to this Constance girl. The worst part of it was that I would actually do it, because I was all too nice! I was tricked!

"They don't pay me enough for this. . ." I whispered to myself, taking a seat. It seemed I would have to wait for the doors to unlock this time.

Once the "Lamb" was asleep, I made sure to collect her voxophone message, replacing it with the other one I had received. I took extra care to fold in my wings properly this time, and took a close up peek at the girl. She was pretty, if young. Knowing she had been trapped in this tower for seventeen years, I could only imagine her spirit was even younger, not exposed to the elements. Poor poor girl. I felt a kinship with her. If only there was a way to set her free.

I shook my head. There was no way I'd make it out alive with her. I left the room, rubbing my thumb over the play button of the voxophone. A distraction was in order. It was rude to listen to somebody else's messages, but it felt only right I should know a little bit about this situation. I was putting in all of the physical effort after all. No. Not until I got back to the lab at least. I placed the voxophone into my bag and prepared to return home, by breaking into a full out sprint.

Dashing down the stairs, I put all of my effort into running. Momentum, as I had learned, was key when taking off from the ground, hence the running. A stitch already forming in my side, I ignored the pain and pushed on. Once I was in the air, I could breath. Faster and faster, I pushed myself through the main doors, before launching myself into the sky.

I breathed a sigh of relief as the air took hold of my wings and brought me high into the sky. It was only after I was in the open that I realized the pink hue of the clouds. I turned my head to the east to see a sliver of sun rising. Suddenly panicked, I pumped my wings as hard as I could, trying to get high enough to not be spotted. Squinting, I could see figures, sitting on rooftops to enjoy the sunrise. This did not bode well for me. I folded my wings as tight as I could without falling, in an attempt to make myself more streamline. I pumped my wings as hard as possible, begging the Lutece Labs to show up on the horizon.

As I finally neared my safe haven, I realized I only had one shot to make it through the open window. After that I risked being spotted. Folding my wings tight, I dived, the air lashing at my exposed cheeks. Closer I grew to the window. Now or never! I pulled my wings open slightly, allowing me to swoop inside. Now safe, I wished to stop, but momentum said otherwise. Flying at high speeds, I raised my arms to protect my head as I crashed directly into a wall.

CRACK! Pain shot through my arm. It was broken.

The morning after my delivery consisted of me attempting to set my own arm back into place. This proved rather difficult, but it had to be done. To visit a doctor would almost certainly promise my secret life being exposed. I could not go back. I could not risk becoming another experiment. If learning to treat my own ailments was the price of security, then that was what I would pay.

Wrapping a clean dish towel from the kitchen around my mouth, I looked at the displaced arm. The lab had several spare materials scattered about on tables, likely from the broken machine in the center. Using whatever odds and ends I could find scattered about the detritus, I fashioned a sort of splint and sling for my arm, before staring at the afflicted appendage.

Shit. This was going to hurt! I began to cry. The thought of doing this to myself was almost too much for me. Pulling the arm I could only continue, the throbbing pain from before now replaced with spikes following each pull I gave. Why was I so stupid? I tugged harder, the pain intensifying, and then I let go. I couldn't do this. It hurt too much.

Holding my arm, I sobbed. It was not fair. I had no other choice! There were no other options. After several minutes of losing myself to my own panic, I turned to the kitchen. Last I checked I didn't have any, unless. . . Pushing myself into the room, I went to the nearest cabinet. We didn't drink the wine during dinner, so it should still be there. Never so happy for a drink, I pulled out the bottle. It wouldn't get me trashed, that was for sure, but it certainly wouldn't hurt the situation any more.

My head now slightly abuzz, I laid my arm on the counter and pressed. My entire arm burned, but I continued, now squeezing my arm into place. Spots started to appear before me, but I ignored them. I just had to keep going. Harder I pushed, until there was a slight pop. The bone was set. Sighing with relief, I realized just how tired, and out of it I was. The spots in my vision grew larger, and I fell unconscious.


	7. Rapture, Kaching!

I awoke in my room, threadbare mattress and all. Yesterday had been rough, as I was assigned to put in a new sign advertising Arcadia. My shoulders still ached from wearing that heavy diving suit, but I'd be damned if I let the masochists over in sector eight get my job because I was "meant to be in the kitchen." Sometimes it sucked being the only woman working at Randy's Odd Jobs. I always had to push a little bit harder, work a little bit longer, and kiss ass a little bit more just to make sure I got equal opportunity to the men.

I got up and got ready for whatever assignment I was handed. You never knew with this job, but that's why I loved it. That and my passion for actually creating. It just felt right making things, art, music, food, signs, brick walls. This was what I was meant to be doing, at least until I made it in the arts, if that ever happened. I walked into my building.

Grabbing my assignment card, I looked it over: Fort Frolic. I grinned, a newfound excitement stirring within me. This was the third time this week they requested me to work there, and while I knew the jobs were only temporary, it felt one step closer to becoming an artist. I practically skipped to the supply room, dropping the needed tools in my bag. So what if it was just hanging up posters, I was part of the theatre.

When I arrived at Fort Frolic, the stack of posters was ready for me, along with a map of where each item went, and a bucket of "Easy On Easy Off Glue." I sighed under my breath. It would have to take two or three trips to get everything from place to place, or I could sprint back and forth with one poster at a time? Both plans did not appear very efficient, unless I did something completely different. Pulling out a flask of Eve, I downed the glowing liquid, shivers going down my spine. I raised my hand a moment later and floated all of my materials to the first stop.

The work was dull, but the excitement of being in the space before hours, looking at all of the exciting new shows Sander Cohen was about to put on, left me giddy. I could do just about anything right now. The space didn't open until nine, and from the looks of the place, I was completely alone. With one last poster to put up, I turned to the stage, empty. That just wouldn't do. Setting down my gluey roller, I strolled to the stage, dimly lit by a ghost light. Dare I?

I none too gracefully pushed myself up onto the stage, much darker than it was meant to be I stared into the empty audience, envisioning an attentive crowd. Pulling out my harmonica, I began to play an easy song of mine. Letting the flow of sound wash over me, I could not help but feel soothed.

Completely absorbed, I barely flinched when the stage lights went on. It wasn't until after I finished the song, and one lone set of applause echoed throughout the theatre that I was brought back from my trance. A man, was walking down the aisle, grinning like that of a hungry hyena about to snack on some poor gazelle, the gazelle in this case being me. In that moment I tried to move, but my body refused to listen. For some reason the figure filled me with dread. I closed my eyes, hoping the man would just go away. Instead, I felt a set of hands rest on my shoulders, and hot breath on my neck.

"You were stunning, Beauty."

My eyes snapped open to see my kitchen from the ground up. Using my one good arm I pushed myself into sitting position, and waited for the dizziness to stop. It was only after a couple of minutes of soothing breaths that I regained my composure. That was when I looked down to see the puddle of blood by where I was laying. I placed a hand to my cheek to feel dry blood caking my face as well. A nightmare and a nosebleed? Today was not my day. I had just finished washing up all of the blood when there was a knock on the door.

I tried to clean myself up as much as I could. Whoever was on the other side of the door was bound to ask questions if they noticed the blood or the broken arm. The knocking continued. Taking a quick glance at the mirror, I threw a blanket over my shoulders and yanked open the door, to be greeted with an all too big smile. It was that Winfried fellow again. The fool kept trying to convince me to sign the paperwork allowing him to take a deeper look into the Lutece's finances. This had to be the third or fourth visit so far.

"For the last time, I will not sign your paperwork," I groaned.

"No need, Miss," he handed me a document with a key.

I began to read over the paper, slightly concerned with what this guy could do. "Last Will and Testament: I Rosalind Lutece, hereby leave all of my earthly possessions to my brother, Robert Lutece, and sister, Robin Lutece. . ." The will went on, but I could only blink in surprise.

"I discovered a loophole in the system, and chose to look at the will in question," he held out a note along with a package, "I was also told to give you this."

I accepted the folded piece of paper along with the box, unsure of how I could be heir to anything when I didn't- My head began to spin.

"Have a nice day, Miss Lutece." Winfried walked onto the street, and headed in the direction of the bank. I quietly closed the door and pulled up a chair.

Starting with the box, I tore open the paper to reveal a glowing red bottle. My mouth dried for a second. It was Adam, pure, magical, delicious Adam. I chugged the bottle, not caring about the consequences. Quenching my desire, I could feel the bone in my arm strengthen, before knitting together completely.

"Do not say we don't pay you. Get the job done tonight. R. & R. Lutece" did they hear me complain? I pulled the other fold, "P.S. We advise you not to lose track of time again. Adam is hard to come by."

I turned to the voxophone on the table. I guess I still had to send that message. Shifting my wings, I could feel a hint of soreness. Tonight was going to be a long one.


	8. Finding Constance

Flying around Columbia searching for a random address was not on my favorite things to do list, but at least it gave me plenty of time to listen in on this voxophone conversation. I pressed the play button midair and a soothing yet youthful voice came through the device.

"Hello Constance. My name is Elizabeth. You spoke of wanting to meet me, so here I am! I haven't really met any real people, or left my tower. What is it like outside? Is there lots of dancing and art? What does grass feel like? What is it like to have a family? I bet the world out there is wonderful, isn't it?" a huff of breath came through the machine, "I apologize. I am rather too curious of the outside world. Please don't think me a freak.

\- Elizabeth" The machine whirred into silence. That girl was in for a rude awakening should she ever leave that tower. Perhaps it was safer for her there? No. Even if it was safer, she deserved the choice to come and go. I of all people should know that best.

I stared down street after street, a map in front of me as I got a bird's eye view of the city. The Luteces mentioned a Finkmore Street, which could only exist in Finkton. What kind of man names a near town after himself, as well as half of the streets? This Fink fellow, it seems. I could practically feel the disgust churning in my stomach. I glanced at the golden statue, also of Fink. Since I arrived, it made my head hurt. There was something disturbingly familiar about the man.

I shook off the feeling and went over a section labelled "Shantytown." This couldn't be right, though. Could it? What would she be doing here? I flew over to some kind of bar, The Graveyard Shift, and perched on its high roof. My map said this was the place, but what business would a kid have at a shady bar at two in the morning? I surveyed my area.

Unlike the rest of Columbia, which seemed to all be in bed by midnight at the latest, Shantytown still had people milling about on the dark streets, some even sleeping there. Beyond that, officers seemed to pass the citizens often, kicking those asleep as they passed, or cursing mothers and children still out. I bit the inside of my cheek. These cops ticked me off, but there wasn't anything I could do.

That was when I spotted a familiar set of dark locks, almost carrying a woman I could only assume was her mother. Was this really Constance? How was I going to give her this voxophone without being noticed? Ideas flicked through my mind, all being nixed due to impracticality or danger. It was during this moment of thought that another cop walked by, kicking a man rested on the curb.

"Oy! Copper!" the mother slurred, "How's come yeh getta treat all o' us leik shit?"

"Not now, mother" Constance pulled the woman away from the officer, her voice now holding a slight accent, "Yer drunk."

"Pah!" the woman spat at the cop, he stood there shocked for the moment, "Don' matter! You an yer book smarts always spoilen mah fun! Fer us potato eaters!"

She flipped the officer the officer the bird, and the man, finally comprehending what was happening to him, pulled out his billy club. I winced. Should I intervene? Half of me screamed yes. A woman didn't deserve to die for lashing out, not in these conditions. The other half, however, begged me to hold back. I couldn't risk being seen like this. The man struck the woman, blood now pouring out of the side of her head. Constance seemed to pull her intoxicated mother back.

"She didn't mean it!" The girl shrieked, "She didn't mean it!"

"Too late now," The cop, now filled with a blind rage, smashed his club into the woman again, and again, the sound of bone cracking could be heard even at a distance. Constance tried to stop him, but the man just pushed her aside. That's when I snapped. I couldn't take this any longer. Jumping from my hiding spot, I rammed the cop to the ground and began swinging. My fist collided with his teeth, his nose, his eyes. Anywhere exposed was up for grabs. How dare he beat a woman like that!? How DARE he kick those too weak to get up?! How dare he live a life so privileged and not even acknowledge that these people couldn't even afford to feed themselves?!

I just kept punching, until suddenly I stopped. My hands were covered with this man's blood. The man, now sobbing, looked at me, his eyes now swollen. This was wrong. I was wrong. This wasn't the right choice.

"Mama?" I heard Constance cry, but even I knew the woman wouldn't make it.

I sighed. I should take this man's life in return for his deeds, shouldn't I? An eye for an eye? That is what would be expected by anyone that was forced into my situation, but I couldn't. I hated this man, and his misguided racism, but it was not my job to decide who lives and who dies. I looked into the almost swollen shut eyes of this officer.

"If you ever do that again, I will find you and kill you. Do you understand?" the man nodded, sniffling pitifully, "Good. Now go."

I pulled him to his feet and pushed him down the road. Turning to Constance, she was still crying over the body of her fallen mother. What do people say when things like this happen? I looked around the street. It had cleared out once the fight started. Still, it was best to leave as soon as possible. The child threw a wrench in my plans, though. I couldn't just leave her like this, not with an entire police force of siccos walking the streets. I should say something.

"Constance?" I cut the crying. Instead, she turned to me, wide eyed. She must have spotted my wings.

"Are you an angel here to take my mother?" Of course that was the first question she asked. It was best to tell the truth.

"No. I'm here to make sure you get home safe," I bent down to the girl, "Do you have a house, or a father? Or anyone?"

That would be the best course of action. Sneak the girl home, hand her the voxophone, and leave. The girl looked at me for a second, scrunching her nose as if in thought.

"No, but I do have a place I can stay," Constance slipped her hand into mine and lead me down the street, "Follow me."


	9. Meeting the Vox

Constance's hand felt cool in mine, as the girl pulled me down multiple sidestreets. Clinging to the shadows, it seemed everyone we passed paid us no notice. We were protected by darkness here. The anxiety resting in the pit of my stomach faded in that moment. In the dark, with this child, I would not be hurt by the scientist, or gawked at by the common man. How could a child make me feel so safe? There was something special about the girl, for in that one moment I was free, but that feeling could not last forever.

We passed an odd bit of graffiti, splashed on the brick wall of a building in a red paint similar to the color of blood. The anxiety returned. I was still in unfamiliar territory, fully exposed, and clearly not belonging. Constance lead me to a barrel, barely visible, in the faint moonlight obscured by the high buildings. What could she be doing?

She gave a light tap on the barrel, wrapping out an unknown rhythim. A few seconds later, a continuation of her tapping came from the other side of the container. Constance pulled me back, and I found the barrel rising slightly, as a piece of the ground slid aside to reveal a large hole. We were going underground? A dark skinned man popped his head out, and smiled at my companion.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite Vox in the making?" the man's brown eyes glistened with mischief, "Come to give us info- or. . ." He spotted me behind the girl, his voice suddenly growing colder, "Who is this?"

"Robin Lutece," I stated, unsure if it was wise to give this name.

"Lutece, as in the Founder Lutece?!" A gun was suddenly pointed in my direction, "Constance, get behind me."

I raised my arms, sure that I would be dead before even given the chance to explain, but Constance didn't budge, despite standing nearly directly in front of a gun. She just stayed, giving the man a look that instantly made me grateful I wasn't on this girl's bad side.

"Skybird Lookout, if you continue to point a gun in my face, I will be forced to kick yer teeth in," the girl huffed, suddenly sounding a lot stronger than she was during the fight with the cop.

"Alright, alright," the Skybird man lowered his weapon, "But if this girl causes trouble, you're explaining it to Fitzroy."

The man's head disappeared down the hole, giving us safe passage into the underground, if you'd even call the underbelly of a floating city "underground." I shrugged, as Constance lead me to the nearby ladder, before climbing down herself. I followed, and the hole above closed, leaving me in complete darkness. Shivering, I clutched the cold, metal rungs of the ladder tightly as I descended. There was a slight sound of dripping coming from below, followed by the smell of urine. Was I going into the sewer? I could only assume that was the case by the smell.

"Almost there," Constance called to me. I followed, before reaching solid ground. It was still dark.

A light immediately flicked on, and I was forced to quickly shield my eyes. Blinking spots out of my vision, I soon adjusted to the light in time to see a group of men their guns trained on me. What was with these people and wanting to shoot me? I scrunched up my wings and again waited to be shot.

That was when the line of men parted, and a somewhat familiar looking woman walked before us. I shuddered. If I thought Constance's look was bad, this woman's was worse. She grabbed Constance by the elbow before crouching to her level.

"Constance Field," her dark brown eyes held the look of a disappointed mother, "You dare bring a founder into our base? When your mother hears-"

"She'd dead" the words tumbled out of my mouth, the men that had grown lax watching the conversation, retrained their guns back on me, "An officer beat her to death with a billy club. I tried to stop him, but I got too scared to move. Then he pushed her, and I just couldn't let him hurt- and I'm sorry if you don't want me around. I promise I'm no threat. And I- I. . ."

"Hold it, girl," the woman looked me over, "This isn't the Lutece I know. Men, you can go."

Most of the Vox soldiers in that moment followed orders, but one stayed, Skybird.

"That includes you, Sky," she nodded.

"But Daisy-" he held up his gun. Was this the famous Daisy Fitzroy? Perhaps that's why she looked familiar?

"I'm armed if need be," she stroked the man's cheek, "Rest for now."

Skybird sighed before giving one final salute and heading through a nearby door. Daisy turned her attention to me.

"So why is a person such as yourself tellin' everyone you're a Lutece?" She gave a slightly nervous glance to my wings.

"I've been living in what remains of their home for several weeks, doing what they ask me to do," I shrugged, "It only seemed fitting in avoiding questions."

Daisy gave a loud laugh before stating, "Because I am sure you don't get questions."

"Usually I am disguised," I shifted awkwardly before remembering the weight on my shoulder, "But I was asked to come here to deliver a message."

"A message?" Daisy put her hands on her hips, quiet for a moment, "Well, are you going to give it to me?"

"It's not for you," I pulled the voxophone out of my bag before handing it to the girl standing beside me, "It's for Constance. I kind of got distracted by the whole police brutality incident."

"Wait," Daisy gave an odd smirk, "You're posing as a Lutece, and just delivered a message to Constance. . ."

"Yes?" I looked at the woman confused before

Daisy smiled at me, any sense of hostility gone from her face, "Girl, you have just proven yourself to the vox. Come with me."

Constance smiled at me before placing her hand into mine. This kid seemed to be the only thing keeping me alive here, so I smiled back. Daisy was already out of the room, when I began to follow. Pushing our way through a set of double doors, I found myself beside a river of what I could only imagine was pure filth. My nose crinkled in disgust, but I carried on, letting Daisy lead the way. She brought us to a makeshift ladder, reaching into a Vox-made hole in the ceiling. I let go of Constance, before lifting the now drowsy child up to Daisy. Afterwards, I climbed the ladder, popping up in what I could only assume was Daisy's room.

The ceiling and walls were adorned with banners. Stacks of wanted posters filled the wastebin. In the center of the room lay a map of Columbia, beside a strange device. Daisy pulled a chair up to the table, gesturing for me to sit down. I took a seat, turning to see Constance already asleep on the bed in the corner.

"So, you are this Messenger I've been promised?" Daisy again glanced at my wings. Was she nervous? ,"A day late and a dollar short, I'd say. We expected you months ago."

"I was indisposed at the time," It wasn't a lie. I looked to the sleeping child, "Is she going to be alright?"

Daisy slouched in her chair, showing a look I could only describe as pure exhaustion slip onto her face, "I don't know. Constance is not like most children here."

"What do you mean?"

"Folks here be calling her a genius," she sighed, "Most people, though, don't want a kid smarter than themselves."

"You're saying nobody here will care for her?" I could already see the unpleasant path this was leading to.

"The Vox would do as much as they could, but to be frank, there just aren't enough supplies for that," Daisy pointed at her map, "We haven't expanded enough to care for anyone other than our own."

"So, what will happen to her?" I knew the answer, but I had to be certain. If there was any way this kid didn't end up-

"She'll be left on the streets, like the countless other chil'ren that lost their parents to the police around here."

"She can put on that accent, though," Was there any hope for this girl? "Surely that has to help?"

"Only if she has somebody to vouch she isn't Irish, or from here," Daisy frowned, "If she did manage that. . . Then perhaps she could be of some use to the Vox?"

I frowned, "So why were you having her send messages? That couldn't help the Vox, could it?"

"We had at one point planned to use her to infiltrate the Sky-Lines, using her trained accent to fool the guards. The recordings were part of the distraction, but-" Daisy shivered, suddenly lost in thought.

"Alright," I relented, not wishing to cause the woman distress by forcing her to recall unpleasant memories. I moved to sit beside the child, brushing a strand of hair from her face. Such wasted potential, leaving a young one so bright in a place like this. Any youth forced to live here was doomed, but perhaps I could save this one? The Luteces did leave me money, and the girl could actually manage to go out when I couldn't. Yes. She could help me, get supplies and not get so lonely. This could work.

I looked back to Daisy offering a soft smile, "Daisy, what would happen if I adopted the girl?"


End file.
